


Fragrance and Feelings

by matildajones



Series: Tumblr Fics [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Misunderstandings, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/pseuds/matildajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I thought it would take longer,” Cora tells him. “Much longer.” </i><br/><i>Derek doesn’t even bother glaring at her.</i><br/>-<br/>In which Derek and Stiles go on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragrance and Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> So last part of this series :) I hope you all like it!
> 
> It's a good idea to read all the parts in this series first :)

 Derek’s high on the feeling of having Stiles in his room, in his arms, on his sheets. It was hard to watch him leave the Hale house, his sister snickering behind him, but Derek’s able to relax with the knowledge Stiles wants him,  _he wants him._

 “I thought it would take longer,” Cora tells him. “Much longer.”

 Derek doesn’t even bother glaring at her.

 He ignores his uncle’s smirk and his mother’s surprised expression when they smell Stiles all over his clothes. Derek doesn’t care about what they think, his wolf smug that Stiles’ scent has lingered. But they have smiles on their faces, happy that Derek’s happy.

 He picks Stiles up for their date two days later. Stiles wears an oversized jacket and a nervous grin, his heart stuttering along as Derek opens the car door for him. This time around he can enjoy the way Stiles’ scent fills his car, settling over the seats, and it’s no longer torture.

 Stiles blinks at him. “You – you don’t look absolutely pained,” he says.

 “What?”

 His lip bitten smile grows. “You weren’t kidding, you like how I smell!”

 Derek rolls his eyes but he takes one hand off the wheel and settles it on Stiles’ knee. It makes the boy go silent, his breath held in his lungs and lust starting up in his scent. Derek hums happily and makes his way to the diner.

 At the end of the night Derek walks Stiles up to his front door. He’s been wanting to kiss him all evening, watching his soft, pink lips talk around his food, watching the way Stiles flushes when Derek’s legs press against his under the table.

 “I think you should kiss me again,” Stiles says. “And maybe other things.”

 Derek raises an eyebrow.

 “My Dad’s not home,” Stiles tells him.

 “I can tell.”

 “Right,” he says, “your werewolf senses.”

 There’s a neat space between them and Derek is itching to move forward and touch. Derek thinks he’s maybe waited too long, the moment gone, when there’s a harsh glint in Stiles’ eye. He pulls something out of his pocket. Derek’s heart leaps, his face scrunching in horror when he sees the familiar purple bottle in Stiles’ hand.

 “Don’t you dare,” Derek growls.

 Stiles’ scent spices for a second at his words, his eyes darkening. Derek holds his breath when Stiles sprays the perfume all over himself, over his neck and clothes, and he’s fucking grinning, his keys opening the front door in a swift, practiced motion.

 He slips inside and throws Derek a look over his shoulder.

 “I guess you’ll have to strip me now,” he calls out.

 Derek swears. He gets a whiff of the perfume coating Stiles’ scent, hiding it too much from Derek’s wolf. Fuck. He watches Stiles swagger down the hallway, his hips moving as he heads towards the stairs.

 It’s too much and Stiles knows it. Derek stomps forward, his wolf aching for Stiles to smell good, to smell normal, to have Derek’s scent over him instead.

 He could leave if he wanted, he could turn around and go back home. Derek has enough control for that, but he’d much rather slam the door behind him and follow Stiles into the house.

 Stiles yelps when Derek throws him over his shoulder, but he’s laughing.

 “You think you’re so clever,” Derek mutters. He rushes upstairs and he puts Stiles down, his face bright red.

 “I am,” Stiles says, scrambling out of his clothes. Derek pushes him towards the shower, turning on the spray of water and pushing Stiles inside. His body is already naked, skin looking creamy and good, secret moles splayed over his back and ass.

 Derek stares at him as he steps out of his own clothes. He’s aware of Stiles watching him, his eyes dark and wanting, his hand reaching for his own dick, getting it hard.

 “How long is it going to take for you to join me,” Stiles asks, impatient, but his words falter when Derek rids himself of his shirt and pulls his briefs down. “Fuck,” he whimpers. “You’re so…”

 Derek swallows. He’s torn between marking Stiles’ pretty skin, bruising his lips with his own or getting him to smell a lot more like Derek and less like the perfume. Derek steps into the small shower and immediately Stiles is on him, arms circling his neck and pressing warm kisses to Derek’s jaw.

 “Wait,” Derek says. Stiles pouts.

 He reaches for the unscented soap and runs it over Stiles’ wet body, his large hands moving over Stiles’ shoulders, his neck, his chest. Derek’s fingers brush over Stiles’ nipples, and fuck it feels good to hear Stiles moan.

 Derek moves his arms around Stiles’ waist, keeping his eyes on him, unrelenting, as Derek’s hands make their way down Stiles’ spine and over his ass.

 “Oh, god,” Stiles stutters, eyes widening when Derek drops to his knees.

 Derek grins, running what’s left of the soap over Stiles’ legs.

 “For fuck’s sake, the perfume didn’t get there,” he snaps, but his feet stumble when Derek holds his hips tight and takes Stiles’ now hard cock into his mouth. “Oh my god, yes, do that, please, keep doing that.”

 Derek’s own cock twitches and it doesn’t take long before Stiles’ fingernails are digging into his shoulders as he comes. Derek barely lets Stiles relax before Derek’s pushing him against the shower wall and claiming his mouth in a kiss. Stiles clutches at him, not daring to let him go, small whimpers coming from his mouth.

 Stiles’ body is slick with the cut of the water, and Derek starts to nip at his neck, sucking bruises over and over his skin as he thrusts himself into Stiles’ hip. Stiles is muttering in his ear, making Derek move faster, until finally he’s shuddering and the water is washing away his come.

 Stiles pets at his hair, panting loudly at Derek’s neck.

 “You’re a menace,” Derek says quietly, slowing down his kisses.

 He can feel Stiles grinning at his shoulder. “I know. It was worth it, though.”

 Derek pulls back and looks at Stiles, smiling softly. He takes time to wash Stiles’ hair, letting his fingers thread through the strands gently. Stiles kisses him before doing the same, and he looks up shyly at Derek while they towel themselves dry.

 “Please don’t cover yourself in that shit again,” Derek says.

 “Okay,” Stiles says easily.

 “Especially if my sisters or any of my family wants you to. My uncle likes to play practical jokes on me,” Derek says. Stiles smirks and doesn’t promise anything.

 It’s not late yet so they head downstairs, and Stiles turns on the tv. They settle onto the couch, their skin and hair still a little damp, and Stiles curls under Derek’s arm easily, only good things coming from his scent.

 Derek doesn’t even watch the screen. He just sits there and breathes, hoping Stiles won’t notice.

 He does, but the corners of his lips tilt up, and Stiles presses himself closer to the warmth of Derek’s body.

» 

 “I found your blog,” Stiles says, two weeks later. Derek pales.

 He turns and Stiles is resting his hip against the door frame, a cheeky smile on his face. He has a phone in his hand, the screen bright and glaring as he waves it around. The logo of Derek’s blog is clear and easy to see across the room.

 Stiles laughs when he sees Derek’s face. He licks his lips.

 “Give it here,” Derek growls. Stiles shakes his head, grinning brightly when Derek leaps up from the couch and tries to snatch the phone from him. Stiles doesn’t try to run away. He grabs at Derek’s shirt instead, drawing him closer.

 Stiles’ nose runs along Derek’s temple. It’s a habit he’s picked up from the werewolves, and Derek feels warm as Stiles scents him.

 “It’s funny,” Stiles says, pulling back.

 Derek blinks. “Really?”

 He snorts. “‘ _How Not To Get A Restraining Order’_?”

 Derek feels his face go hot. He avoids Stiles’ gaze, worried he’s stepped over some kind of line. He thought sharing his experience on his blog might help other werewolves who have to go through similar situations. It’s always harder when the person who smells so good is human, who doesn’t understand the importance of scents despite the effort to teach them in schools. Derek wants to help.

 Stiles throws the phone to a nearby couch. He threads his fingers through Derek’s and leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Derek’s lips. It makes Derek look him in the eye.

 “It  _is_  funny,” he says. “Who knew Derek Hale had a sense of humour? But, honestly, is this because of what I said that one time? Because I don’t believe that, okay? Werewolves are good. It’s all good.” Stiles’ heart thuds, and he ducks his head. “I liked how you ended it.”

 Derek bites his lip, his wolf curling happily inside of him. Stiles’ scent has nervousness leaking from it, but it’s interlaced prettily with content and happiness. Derek cups Stiles’ cheeks, his thumb brushing over Stiles’ lip before he lets his fingers trail down his neck. Derek tugs Stiles’ collar down, until the fabric is straining, and Derek sees the marks he’s left there.

 He presses down with his thumb and Stiles’ body jolts, Stiles letting out a nice, breathless noise.

 “Derek,” he says.

 “I’m glad you liked it.” He kisses Stiles’ neck.

 “Of course I did – you said it doesn’t matter how someone smells, you have to have feelings to back it up with.  _Feelings_ ,” he repeats. “Genuine, real, feelings.”

 Derek just smiles. When he first met Stiles, this is the last thing he thought would happen. He never imagined Stiles standing lovely before him, his dotted skin within reach to kiss and lick. Stiles shifts on his feet while his words dance around the question he wants to ask. Derek waits, slowly unzipping Stiles’ hoodie and gently moving it off his shoulders.

 “You have feelings right?” Stiles asks in a low voice.

 “For you, yeah,” Derek says back. Stiles kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and for all your lovely comments!
> 
> Now that we've gotten to the end, I'm going to say sorry for all the terrible titles in this series, but here we are anyway :) I couldn't help it.
> 
> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://matildajones.tumblr.com) :)


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